


you can grow old, but don't ever grow up

by reas_of_sunshine



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Coming of Age, Family Feels, Gen, Growing Up, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Mild Language, One Shot, Other Characters Are Mentioned, Recreational Drug Use, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 18:43:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14899914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reas_of_sunshine/pseuds/reas_of_sunshine
Summary: They may technically be cousins but they have more of a sibling dynamic. This is Donald, Della, Gladstone and Fethry through the years.





	you can grow old, but don't ever grow up

Donald and Della were eight. Gladstone just turned seven. And Fethry, only four. It was the summer after everything changed. Death had been an unfortunate yet familiar friend to the Duck family last year. The farmhouse was full of children now, and there never seemed to be a dull moment.

“It’s okay, _patito_ , you’ll be better soon enough,” Grandma said softly as she bandaged up Fethry’s bleeding hand and wiped away his tears.

His cousins all nervously glanced at one another.

Donald kicked the hardwood floor. Della shoved her hands into the pockets of her dress. Gladstone smoothed down his overalls.

“And as for the three of you,” Grandma muttered. “Who’s idea was it to take out the tractor and drive it?”

The three older ducklings remained quiet.

Della shuffled forward. “It was me,” she said softly.

“No,” Donald’s strained, awkward voice spoke up. “It was mine,”

Gladstone folded his arms and turned away. “We all thought it up,” he mumbled.

Standing before her, Elvira saw three little troublemakers. Three children who were honorable and stuck together, despite the trouble they’d get into. She also saw three poor, sweet little children who had lost so much at such a young age. Her grandchildren had to let out their emotions of confusion and grief somehow.

But acting out still wasn’t okay.

She sighed and hoisted Fethry off the kitchen counter, holding him on her hip as she crouched down to the other three.

“You need to apologize to Fethry for pushing him off,” Grandma said, with a finger waggle.

“Gramma, I fell,” Fethry whined.

Elvira clearly didn’t buy it. “I know you kids, you rough-house all the time,”

Della frowned and the blue ribbon in her hair drooped. “Sorry, Fethry,” she mumbled, and her brother and cousin echoed the statement.

“It’s okay,” Fethry said, smiling down at his cousins.

“Now three of you, corners, now,” Grandma said.

Donald, Della and Gladstone all shamefully nodded and each headed to a different corner of the kitchen, sitting where Elvira could keep on an eye on them. Fethry was placed back down on his feet and stood there a moment, glancing at each of his cousins…

...before settling for a spot right in the middle of the kitchen floor.

Looking up from the dinner she was preparing, Grandma adjusted her glasses and looked down at her youngest grandchild.

“Fethry, what are you doing?”

“Time out,” Fethry said. “Cause I was on the tractor too,”

Della and Gladstone snickered, Donald shook his head with a smile. And Elvira couldn’t help but smile.

These children were a handful. But she loved them; and she admired their devotion and love for one another. She could handle all the trouble in the world with them, so long as they were kind to each other.

 

~ ~ ~

 

Donald and Della had just turned thirteen a month ago. Gladstone was twelve. Fethry was nine. And the farmhouse was chaotic for the last time, as luggage was dragged out of the room the four kids shared, yelling echoed off the walls and tension rose in the family all over again. And perhaps for an understandable reason.

“Grandma, why?!” Della argued. “You can’t kick us out!” She tried to yank her suitcase out of her grandmother’s hands—but years of farm work was on Elvira’s side.

A heavy sigh escaped her. “I’m not kicking you out, Della,”

Donald stood off to the side the whole time, quietly holding his duffel bag. He had nothing to say.

Gladstone and Fethry had been told to sit outside and not interfere, but they were very clearly trying to listen in on everything.

“Then what the hell are you doing?” Della grumbled bitterly.

“Della Thelma Duck, language,” Elvira snapped.

Della frowned instead of apologizing. And folded her arms tightly over her chest. “I don’t want to live with Uncle Scrooge,”

“Well, I’m sorry, but we have to do a lot of things we don’t want to do,” The harsh words were softly spoken, but that didn’t quite soften the blow. Grandma’s hands shook and she let out a deep breath. “I’m getting older. I’m sorry, but I can’t look after all you kids anymore,”

“It’s only me, Donnie and Gladstone,” Della muttered. “Fethry is only here once in a while,”

Della had a point. Fethry was a frequent visitor. The four of those kids were inseparable.

Elvira felt terrible to be tearing them apart like this.

But it was what had to be done.

She put down Della’s pale blue suitcase and stepped forward, pulling her granddaughter into a hug. Talks were had and custody papers had been signed. And this was the right thing to do.

“I’m sorry,” Elvira murmured. “But I want you to have a better chance. And your uncle offered,”

Della returned the embrace, holding on tight as she could—and a quiet sob escaped her when Donald joined the hug. The three of them stood like that, embraced, softly crying, unable to say goodbye. Because it wasn’t goodbye. They’d be back.

But they were leaving.

Just for now. For a new life, but not a better one. Nothing was better than all the childhood memories made in this rickety old farmhouse.

“I’m gonna miss you,” the twin siblings mumbled in unison.

Elvira nodded before pulling away. “You be good,” she whispered.

It was Della who smirked, but Donald who shrugged and spoke up. “No promises,”

The screen door creaked open and Gladstone interrupted the sweet moment. “If neither of you want to get in the sweet limo outside, I will,” he said.

Della scoffed, picking up her suitcase and sticking her tongue out at her cousin.

“Have fun staying on the farm, Sadstone,” she retorted. “I’m gonna be glad to finally have my own room,”

Her clever smile, Donald’s tiny grin, those were signs that were certainly excited to move in with the richest duck in the world.

But in their eyes, it revealed they were going to miss their true home.

 

~ ~ ~

 

Donald and Della would be eighteen in a few weeks. Gladstone was seventeen. Fethry was fourteen.

And high school graduation was just two weeks ago for the oldest of the four cousins. Those four years had melted away almost instantly. It had been such a blur. The pranks they pulled. The hell they raised. The subjects they repeated and the ones where they cheated.

And nothing was going according to plan.

“You two gotta figure out what you want to do, like, now,” Della told her younger cousins as the four of them all sat in a circle in a closed off room of the manor.

Fethry smoked… something. Gladstone and Donald begrudgingly shared some beers and Della was getting acquainted with the whiskey. They had made a point to choose a room that Scrooge rarely used. They were young. They were confused. They were scared. Those three things summed up their life fairly well, actually.

But at least they had each other.

Della took another shot and felt the burn. And the string of tears in her eyes.

“I failed the stupid fucking written test,” she muttered, pouring herself another one.

Donald nodded somberly, glancing to his cousins. “She’s not getting in the Air Force,”

“ _Fuck_!”

In her drunken stupor, Della had completely missed her mouth and ended up spilling the whiskey all over her leather jacket. She clumsily unzipped it, throwing it across the room.

Fethry stared at the smoke rings he was blowing. Gladstone hummed along to the rock music they had playing.

Della flopped onto the floor and Donald settled down next to her.

“It’s not about the fucking Air Force,” she muttered. “I can just go to pilot academy,”

Gladstone rolled his eyes. “Aw, is someone still sad about getting dumped?”

Della shot him a nasty glare. “Yeah, actually, I am,” she snapped. “And before you say it, I don’t care if it’s been two weeks. I was with Daisy for three years,”

“Eh, one of those years was just you two making out in the janitor’s closet at random times,” Fethry muttered around his pipe.

That got a snicker out of Donald and Gladstone—and a loud groan from Della.

She rolled over, refusing to look at her brother or cousins. “I hate you guys,” she whined.

“No you don’t,” Gladstone trilled.

“Yeah, I do,” Della pathetically whined into the intricately designed rug, probably imported from some foreign country. She was gently kicked by her brother and another loud whine escaped her. “Hey, Don?”

Donald yawned and stretched. “Yeah, Dels?”

She rolled over, reaching out to hit him but missing her target. Rather than slapped his face, she sort of just pathetically tapped his chest. “You fuck up in the Navy and I’ll kill you,” she mumbled. “One of us has gotta make something of ourselves,”

And then she focused her attention back on her little cousins.

“You two do great too,” she mumbled. “After we go out and disturb the peace,”

“Do we have to?” Fethry asked, laying on his stomach and tracing a finger along the patterns of the rug.

Della awkwardly sat up, then nodded. “Yes,” she declared, stumbling to her feet. “We do. Because I am sad and mad at the world and we’re still young and got shit to do. We’ll call a cab and fuck shit up,” She raised a fist in the air, which somehow caused her to lose her balance and fall back onto the floor.

Gladstone snickered and Donald rolled his eyes.

“Hey, I found the Big Dipper,” Fethry said.

“Where the fuck are you gonna—oh, hey,” Della muttered, rolling over and getting a better look at the rug. “I found Sagittarius,”

Feigning a cough, Gladstone mumbled the words, “Space nerd!”

But that night, instead of dwelling on the future and wallowing in their misery, the four of them sipped their spirits and found constellations in the carpet.

 

~ ~ ~

 

Fethry just celebrated his nineteenth birthday. Gladstone is twenty-two. Donald… and well, technically Della too, are twenty-three.

But lately, it’s been just Donald.

Half of a whole. One without the other. But he’s not as alone as he thought. It all happened so fast. The call she was missing. The honorable discharge from the Navy. And then custody papers. Custody papers for three little boys.

“Hey, look, this one’s a green bean, just like his Uncle Gladstone!” Gladstone beamed as he held the youngest duckling—Louie—and blew a raspberry on his stomach.

Adjusting his beanie, Fethry squinted at his cousin. “We’re actually their cousins,” he pointed.

The gander shrugged. “Eh, we’re way older than them. I prefer uncle,”

The two of them sat on the couch, the other two boys sleeping in the playpen. Donald was in the kitchen, staring at the slowly percolating coffee pot. Typically, Della’s apartment was always so full of life.

Yet after a loss… if it was even that… how could there be any of that?

“Uh, you guys like peppermint?” Donald muttered, fishing through the fridge and holding up a thing of creamer.

Gladstone and Fethry nodded slowly.

Peppermint.

The snow slowly falling outside.

It was almost Christmas, just a few weeks from now. Such a tragedy happening around a typically joyful time.

Donald poured three cups of coffee, awkwardly carrying them and placing them on the card table next to the couch. Louie babbled while he drooled all over Gladstone’s golden pocketwatch. Fethry broke the silence.

“We should probably go home for Christmas,” he muttered.

Gladstone nodded in agreement. “Yeah. That’d be good,” He gently pried the watch out of the toddler’s mouth and glanced at his cousin, with a hesitant smile. “Whatdya say, cuz? Back on the farm for the holiday?”

Exhaustion was very clear in Donald’s face.

He could barely manage a nod, and his cousins wish they could take all the burden, all the fright, all the worry right out of him.

They couldn’t take it away.

But maybe they could make him forget about it.

So that was what they did when they each leaned in, an arm around Donald who was in the middle, and squeezed him tight in a hug. It had been three and a half weeks since Della’s disappearance. With the comfort of his cousins, in the quiet of his sister’s apartment, Donald finally had time to cry and… maybe mourn. He wasn’t sure.

The only thing he was sure of anymore was that for once, things truly changed between the four of them.

Because there was no longer four.

Just three.

And it felt wrong. It was the worst change they had ever been through.

Losing their parents. Moving from the farmhouse. Failing as soon as they hit high school and the real world. That all hurt, but they managed to deal.

Donald didn’t know where to start on dealing with this.

“We can babysit, y’know,” Fethry offered.

“But only if you tip generously,” Gladstone grumbled, frowning when Louie got the pocketwatch again, finding it to be his new favorite teething toy.

Donald managed a shaky smile and squeezed his cousins a little tighter, not wanting to let go.

He didn’t know where to start. But he had someone in his corner. And maybe that was something to go off of, at least for now.

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is made possible by comments like you!
> 
> ~reagan


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